


latrotoxin

by phosphenical



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Flirting, coffee dates and emotions, still at the crush stage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 04:34:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7998790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phosphenical/pseuds/phosphenical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lena stood there for a long moment, dumbfounded, before she put her signature speed to use and came to a complete stop in front of her.</p><p>“Ello, love,” her mouth moved of its own accord. “Fancy some coffee?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	latrotoxin

**Author's Note:**

> latrotoxin is the black widow's poison. good stuff. first work on this account, hardly my first work ever posted. lena is gay and awkwardly flirting. 
> 
> this is more pre-slash than anything else. my ability to write french and british accents are...not polished. feel free to correct me, thanks

She thinks it would have been better if it had hit her all at once like a freight train. Lena was familiar with the sensation of falling and slipping – her months in the slipstream, a terrifying expanse that existed everywhere and nowhere all at once had shaped her enough that she didn’t care which way was up so long as she could still breathe.  


She thinks it would have been better if she was as unfeeling as Amélie. (Amélie is dead.) A moment later the foolish thought is entirely discarded and she feels guilty for it having risen in the first place. One of her strong points had always been how much she _cared_. How much she wanted to change the world for the better and how long she was willing to fight for it to happen.  


Change didn’t come so easily, but that didn’t make it worthless. In a way, she supposed that also applied to Widowmaker. Lena found her thoughts always making a full circle back to her and heaved a sigh while mindlessly swiveling on a chair. The itch burning at her veins was restlessness, but she wasn’t entirely certain what she wanted to do.  


Track her down? Force her to repent for her sins when, without a doubt, Lena knew that she felt no remorse whatsoever?  


Maybe she wanted to save her. It was foolish and reckless, and she _knew_ that, but it also didn’t seem very fair to leave her in Talon’s clutches. Lena was not an idiot, she knew that there had to have been some sort of horrifying torture involved in making Widowmaker...well, _Widowmaker_. Nobody’s skin was that blue, nor that cold. Not naturally.  


With every passing moment, she felt her mood sour even further. That’s why she was determined to get out of this god-forsaken base. A little fresh air would do her a bit of good, and she threw the first over-sized hoodie she could find over her torso, effectively covering the _slightly_ suspicious radiant light emitting her chest. (Otherwise known as her chronal accelerator. The last time she had been careless, a young boy asked her if she was Iron Man. Took her quite a while to understand the reference.)  


“I’m heading out!” She called out to the kitchen, poking her head through the doorway when an answer had not been received. Lúcio has his headphones covering his ears, eyes closed as he swayed to a beat that only he could hear. Lena cupped her hands around her mouth. “Lúcio, love!” That got his attention. “I’m going out. Need anything?”  


“Nah man, we’re cool back here.” One thing she could always appreciate about the young Brazilian was that he always emanated a calm energy about him. She wasn’t sure if it was his music or demeanor, but either way he was content with allowing her to roam the streets of France on her own.  


 Being sent out on simple recon hardly posed any threats – normally it would just be Lena and Genji (sometimes McCree) assigned and deployed, but Winston told her he felt better with Lúcio there “just in case.” She tried not to be too offended at that.  


With a skip in her step she bounded outdoors, having to physically refrain herself from blinking through the busy streets. Overwatch was still... _technically_ illegal. Technically. The cool breeze certainly made her feel better, and with a small smile gracing her lips she was almost in a good mood.  


Was Widowmaker out, walking the streets as well? Analyzing the terrain for her next target, scouting out the highest rooftops with swift steps, launching herself across gaps with her grappling hook? Lena swallowed dryly as the wound of Mondatta’s assassination reopened once more. (If she were being completely honest, it had never healed in the first place.)  


She had failed. There was no other way to put it. She failed, Widowmaker pulled off the shot, and now Mondatta was dead, ruining omnic-human relations for the unforeseeable future.  


Lena suddenly found herself wishing that Widowmaker was holed up in whatever base she was operating out of at the moment. Less chance for bloodshed that way. As much as Lena would have liked to have hope that the woman wouldn’t slit a citizen’s throat for bumping into her, she also had to be realistic. Widowmaker was a threat, one she didn’t know nearly enough about.  


But also one that she would recognize without a doubt, no matter how high she had pulled her scarf up to cover her face, or how low she had tugged the brim of her hat. Lena stood there for a long moment, dumbfounded, before she put her signature speed to use and came to a complete stop in front of her.  


“Ello, love,” her mouth moved of its own accord. “Fancy some coffee?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Lena had not been expecting a response at all, much less a positive one. Of course, the descriptor word _positive_ had to be taken with a grain of salt. She hadn’t immediately tried to slam Lena into the pavement, so she counted it as progress.  


It was the little things, really.  


It was how twenty minutes later they were nestled in the corner of an almost rustic coffee shop, knees brushing against each other underneath the table of the booth. Lena wrapped her hands around the tea she had ordered while a plate of croissants sat between them.  


Her pulse pistol was a comforting weight hidden in its holster. While she could not physically spot anything on Widowmaker’s body, Lena had no doubts that she had any less than three weapons on her person at any given time. It was odd to see her without her beloved sniper rifle.  


“You have a reason for this, _oui?_ ”  


Lena hadn’t expected Widowmaker to be the one to break the silence. Of course she chose the worst time to ask a question, as she had stuffed a croissant into her mouth. “Huh?” She made an odd noise, trying to talk around the mouthful of food. Widowmaker’s nose wrinkled.  


“Disgusting,” she turned her nose upright and pointedly looked out the window, sniffing disdainfully. “Is this a new torture technique?” Widowmaker seemed to slip on the words a little, not appreciating the way unfamiliar syllables melded together.  


“This isn’t an interrogation,” Lena blinked, deciding to swallow before attempting to speak. “Nobody forced you to come,” with that she sent a wink in her direction, only to question her actions a minute later. Think, Lena, she scolded herself. “Besides, I would hardly consider my presence painful, yeah?”  


“Of course _you_ wouldn’t.” Widowmaker spoke wryly. “You have yet to answer my question, girl.”  


Her cheeks flushed in momentary anger at the condescending tone, the way Widowmaker made her feel like an incompetent child fresh out of training. “Not everyone has a motive, alright? Though I have to admit I’m curious about what you’re doing here - ‘specially out and about. Your disguise isn’t too grand, love.”  


“Most know better than to, ah, pry into the affairs of strangers.” Widowmaker had yet to touch her drink or any of the food. “Most know better than to stare for too long.”  


Most people were not her. “Hardly a stranger, wouldn’t you say? You know what they say about being unable to stop staring at a pretty face.” Lena flashed her a grin. “Now, I answered your question, it’s only fair you should answer mine.”  


“I do not recall promising you any answers. Nor do I believe that being unable to stop staring at a ‘pretty’ face is anything but rude.”  


“Nope,” she popped the ‘p.’ The comment was a lost cause by now, it would be better to ignore Lena had even tried to compliment her. “But that’s no fun, and ‘sides, you like me to some extent.” Her heartbeat sped up a little as she went out on a limb, only praying that it wouldn’t snap underneath her feet and leave her tumbling for a very, very long time.  


“Quite the bold statement.” The ice in her voice was enough to make Lena’s hair stand on end; however, there seemed to be a missing _but_ at the end of the sentence.  


“But ya didn’t say no…?”  


“Hm.” Widowmaker hummed thoughtfully. “No, I suppose not, _chérie_.”  


That was more than she had been expected, and Lena felt her brain short circuit for a moment there. “What brings you here?” She repeated her question, lifting her gaze to the wide-brimmed hat. A shame to cover eyes as pretty as hers, truly.  


“Business,” finally she took a sip from her coffee, grimacing as she did so.  


“Talon business?” Her gaze flickered from the drink to her lips and then back to the drink. “Not enough sugar in there for you?”  


“That is not the problem,” Widowmaker seemed to bristle at the accusation of the coffee being too strong. “ _C’est chaud._ ”  


“English, love?”  


“It is too hot.” The glare she sent the younger woman could have sliced through weaker men. Fortunately, Lena had a stubborn streak and did not seem fazed in the slightest, only more determined.  


_Really_ , she thought to herself. It would have been better for it to happen all at once, rather than having the venom slowly making its course through her body, eating her from the inside out. “About King’s Row,” her mouth suddenly went dry as though it had been stuffed with cotton balls.  


“Yes?” The voice should have been a warning, as it was a purr more so than anything else. “The site of one of my finest kills.”  


Lena’s fists clenched. “Did you feel good? About it, I mean. Killing someone who just wanted peace.” The words felt choked in her throat yet she kept them hushed, not wanting to draw attention to their corner of the shop. “I’ll be honest, I can’t understand you at all. And I ain’t going to forgive you, either.”  


Her chuckle was cruel. “I felt,” she leaned forward, tilting her hat up so the gleam in her eyes was visible. “ _Alive._ Do you think I care for forgiveness? _Non_ , all that matters to me is that one moment where I _feel._ ”  


Of all the answers she could have expected, it still left her speechless. It gave Lena information though – more than Widowmaker had probably wanted to give. “So that’s it? You’re a junkie? Talon is just feeding you what you need?”  


Widowmaker abruptly stood up, palms flat against the table in a silent threat. “Watch your tongue, _crétin!_ ” It seemed to hit a nerve if the snarl was anything to go by. “I am the best they have. The deadliest. When I kill, it is because I _want_ it.”  


Lena couldn’t maintain the eye contact. “Love,” she whispered. “That isn’t any way to live.” Wordlessly Widowmaker tugged her scarf up and over her nose, covering as much of the blue skin as was possible, not even bothering to dignify the words with a response.  


“Thank you,” her words cut deeper than any blade. “For the date, _ch_ _ _é__ _rie._ Next time, expect a bullet between your eyes.” Without a further farewell she had strutted out of the shop, disappearing in the throng of people as though she had never existed in the first place, leaving Lena behind to contemplate and sort through everything that had happened in such a short amount of time.  


 She eyed the last croissant ruefully, all appetite gone. Perhaps Lena had attempted this outing as an excuse to hate Widowmaker – by bringing up Mondatta, by allowing her _anger_ and _sorrow_ to surface, she thought she would see that Widowmaker was nothing more than what the others said – heartless. Evil. A murderer.  


She saw that, yes, but she saw quite a bit more. There was no way out of the spider’s web by this point, and she turned her gaze towards the door one last time. _Wait for me_ , she wanted to say. _Just you wait. I have all the time in the world._

 

 

* * *

 

 

Lena wished it had happened all at once or not at all. She gave chase bit by bit until she had come to terms with how deep her infatuation truly was. It could have been a misplaced messiah complex, It could have been a subconscious death wish.  


But by god, she was gonna do it. Break every bone in her body and she’d bounce right back. “Winston, love,” she greeted into the mouthpiece of her phone. “Bit of an odd question, but how’s that whole tracking down Talon bases thing going?”


End file.
